


darling I keep falling back to you

by Storynerd



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 05:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18631618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storynerd/pseuds/Storynerd
Summary: “Don’t do anything stupid til I get back.”Bucky swallows down the bitterness on his tongue. “How can I?” he asks. Follow the pattern. Play your part. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”A fix-it of That Scene from Endgame





	darling I keep falling back to you

**Author's Note:**

> ENDGAME SPOILERS OUT THE WAZOO. I AM NOT KIDDING.
> 
> So Endgame woke up the fic writer in me again. Overall I liked it, but Steve's ending... nah. Not for me. So I wrote my own.
> 
> Title is from Tom Grennan's _Sober_ : "I'm like a domino, darling I keep falling back to you"

“Don’t do anything stupid til I get back.”

Bucky swallows down the bitterness on his tongue. “How can I?” he asks. Follow the pattern. Play your part. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

See, the thing is, he’s known Steve his whole life. He can even remember most of it now. And he knows the look on Steve’s face all too well. It’s the look that comes right before something heroic and self-sacrificing. The set to the jaw, the look in the eyes. There’s no point trying to stop it. An immovable object has nothing on the unstoppable force that is Steve Rogers once he’s determined to do something.

And hell. It’s not like Steve hasn’t earned a little happiness. And it’s not like Bucky hasn’t earned a little suffering. Maybe this is the cosmic payout for all those years under HYDRAs thumb. The tradeoff for the new life he has now. Freedom, purpose, a chance to put it all right, and all you have to do is let go of the person who means the most to you.

He pulls Steve into a hug and tries not to squeeze too tight.

“Gonna miss you, buddy.”

There’s a little twist to Steve’s mouth that says he knows his grand plan’s been figured out. They always did know each other better than they knew themselves. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck.”

Bucky grits his teeth tight as Steve steps up onto the platform. It would be easier to give up his other arm, he thinks, then immediately has to stifle an eye roll at his own melodrama. _Keep it together, Barnes._ That’s all he has to do. Keep it together a little longer. Keep his mouth shut. Because if he opens it again, he’s going to beg Steve to stay.

“Going quantum in 3, 2, 1,” Bruce says, and the lights flare red. Bucky keeps his eyes fixed on Steve right til the last second, drinking it in as long as he can. And then he’s shrinking, slipping out of this reality, and the metal hand clenches tight enough to creak.

It’s done.

Bucky can barely hear the countdown to return. White noise is filling his brain, flickering like a badly-tuned TV. _Steve is gone._ It takes the others a little longer to catch on. They’re scrambling to figure it out, thinking something has gone wrong with the machine.

“He blew right past his time stamp, he should be here – ”

“Get him _back – ”_

“Sam,” Bucky says, his voice echoing strangely in his own ears. Like a compass, pointing to its true north, he feels the pull from the figure on the bench. But the silhouette is nothing like Captain America, and the sick feeling in his stomach that has been twisting there since they started setting up the damn quantum tunnel solidifies into ice.

“Go ahead,” he says to Sam. He needs a minute before he faces Steve. Let Sam have his moment first; gives him time to think of something to say that isn’t _how could you do this to me_.

So he watches, a few paces back, and nods when Sam glances at him before taking the shield. He doesn’t want it. He could use it, sure, but it would be like bringing a ghost with him into battle. Sam’s earned this.

He waits until Steve lets go of Sam’s hand before stepping closer. He thinks he’s got a hold of himself now. It’s fragile, sure. He feels like he could shatter at any moment. But he can cope. It hurts, seeing Steve like this, but he lived in pain for decades. He can weather this too.

“Hey, Stevie.” His voice doesn’t even shake. He’s kind of proud.

“Hey, Buck.” God, even his _voice_ is old, weak like it never was, even when he was so small and sick. “Can we take a walk?”

“Sure,” Bucky says, and offers a hand to help him up. He uses his right hand; he’s scared that his left will shatter the bones in Steve’s hand now. They walk slowly, side by side, following the curve of the lake. The quantum tunnel, so out of place here, starts to fade into the trees.

“Did you get your dance?” Bucky asks, because apparently he likes to cause himself more agony. Steve just smiles.

“Yeah, I did. Once Peggy stopped trying to shoot me as an imposter.”

Bucky laughs, before he can help himself. “She always was a firecracker.” They walk on, with nothing but the sounds of their feet on grass to accompany them. “I’m happy for you,” he manages to say eventually, and it’s only slightly a lie.

Steve stops, then, and glances around them. “Thanks,” he says, and – something’s different, something’s changed in the last second, and Bucky feels a prickle down his spine. “I appreciate that.” Steve checks over his shoulder again. “This is far enough, I think.”

“Far enough for what?” It feels like the earth is tilting under his feet, _what is going on,_ and there’s a set to Steve’s shoulders that wasn’t there before, and his voice –

“For this,” Steve says, and taps his wrist.

And his face _ripples,_ disintegrates, scatters from wrinkles and age spots to a gridlike mesh of light, then that dissipates too and Steve, _real_ Steve, is stood there, young and whole and healthy.

Bucky blinks, and then blinks again, just to be sure. What he’s seeing doesn’t change. Either he’s finally cracked (again), or…

“You _asshole,_ ” he manages. “You – I – I thought you fucking _left me.”_ And it catches him by surprise, the rush of relief and anger and shock, and he has to turn away, swallow down the snarling, spiky lump in his throat, and breathe, just breathe, before he puts a fist through a tree or something.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, although the way he’s smiling kind of undermines the apology. He’s got enough sense to stay out of reach though. It’s a good call; Bucky is about three seconds and one smart-ass comment away from socking him in the jaw. “I really am sorry, Buck. But I had to do it.”

“Had to do _what?_ ” Bucky asks, whirling back round to face him. “Had to leave me? Had to go have a life in the past? Are you – is this even you? Or is this the illusion?”

“It’s really me.” And he does step closer now, close enough to touch, and Bucky reaches out, unable to stop himself, and rests his fingertips on the edge of Steve’s jaw. It’s warm, smooth, and without a doubt real. “I needed to find a way to get out for real,” Steve says, and he raises a hand to grip Bucky’s shoulder. “I can’t… I can’t keep being Captain America. Not any more, not after all this. But they won’t let me just retire. You heard Sam just now.”

And yeah, Bucky did. _I gotta live in a world without Captain America._ Steve’s right. If he sticks around, even if he takes a holiday, sooner or later he’ll be pulled back in. Especially now, with the world still trying to pick itself up from the dust, and with Tony dead. They need a Captain America to follow. And now…

“You made a new Captain,” Bucky says. “You knew he’d never take the shield if you were still here.”

 Steve nods. “This was the only way.”

“But… you’re here.” That’s the bit he’s stuck on. “You had a life to get to. All the things you missed. But you’re here.”

Steve sighs, and takes Bucky’s hand from his face to squeeze tight between his own. “I wasn’t kidding about trying to get a real life. But the past… it’s all done. I can’t keep looking backwards. I told everyone to move on for five years. What kind of a hypocrite would it make me if I hadn’t done the same thing? And Peggy… she had a life without me too. A husband, kids. I couldn’t take that from her just because I wanted it too. Besides – ” he cuts himself off.

“Besides what?” Bucky asks, looking at where their fingers tangle together. On impulse, he brings his left hand up to join his grip.

“I couldn’t leave you,” Steve says, quieter now. “I lost you too many times already, Buck. Gave up everything to find you again, too. More than once. You really think I’d do all that and then just walk away?”

Maybe this is what vertigo feels like, Bucky thinks distantly, like the world is spinning a touch too fast. “Steve…” he says, and thank god, thank _god_ Steve knows him so well, because he reads exactly what Bucky means when he can’t even put it into words, leans forwards, and kisses him.

It’s like a static shock. It’s like coming back to life (and god, doesn’t he know exactly what that’s like). It’s like nothing else in the world and Bucky wants _more._ He drops Steve’s hands, curls his fingers into the lapels of his jacket, and pulls him in, close, close, feeling the press of his body and the warmth of his skin and the taste of his lips, the heat, and he never, ever wants to let go. A shiver ripples through him, and he pushes closer, closer, for just a moment, and as the kiss breaks he rests his forehead against Steve’s, stays leaning up against him. If he moves away maybe this will all turn out to be a dream. If he moves away maybe he’ll fall over.

“Don’t ever – ” a pause, before his voice wobbles too much, breathe, breathe, “don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“I won’t,” Steve says, and it sounds like a vow. “I’m done leaving you behind.”

And Bucky can’t help himself; he kisses Steve again, and again, and it feels so inevitable, not so much like flying anymore but like falling, following the inexorable pull of gravity, like they would always have ended up here.

“So what happens now?” he asks, a little later. He’s managed to relax a little, no longer at risk of tearing Steve’s jacket. He’s still holding onto Steve though, his left hand gripping tight to Steve’s right.

“Well, it seems I might be retired,” Steve says, smiling. “What say you come try getting some of that life with me?”


End file.
